And So They Lived
by randomfreak-11189
Summary: A new peril has arisen in Middle Earth, and the remaining members of the fellowship must join together once again to fight this new threat to their homeland
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not, unfortunately, own any part of the Lord of The Rings, movie or book. The new characters and the plot, however, are mine.

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And So They Lived

Aragorn sighed. It had been only 3 months since Frodo had gone westward, and the regret that he couldn't be there for him at his departure made the grief at the loss of his dear friend even more painful.

He sat in the throne room of his palace, glaring balefully at the wall opposite the throne he sat on, studying the heroic storyline etched into it as his mind wandered back to the day he had first met Frodo. He had, of course, heard of the hobbit through Gandalf, but meeting the ring-bearer was something entirely different. Aragorn chuckled, as he remembered the rather clumsy and unintentional, way in which the Ring slipped onto Frodo's finger that night at the prancing pony. Frodo seemed so very young then, his naïveté bordered on stupidity. At times Aragorn wished that he had been able to protect the young hobbits innocence

Frodo had to grow up far too quickly and take on burdens that should not have existed at all. The ring had been destroyed, yes, but it was more the fact that it had existed at all that bothered Aragorn. Isildur should have destroyed it when he had the chance. But the past was, after all, long gone, and he could not change what had happened millennia ago. He supposed, if he had, everything would have been different. He might not have met his dearest friends or his wife if it hadn't been for the betrayal of Isildur.

As he was contemplating the past and his future his wife walked in, clothed in a stunning dress of flame red and gold that set his heart on fire. Aragorn had never quite been able to get over the absolute beauty of the woman that had, for a reason he did not quite understand, chosen him. Arwen walked with the grace and power of a panther, her stunning looks a hereditary gift from heaven. Tangible confidence swirled around her like an invisible aura. Today, however, her beauty seemed changed. There was a fire burning in her eyes that had not been there that morning,

As she walked towards his throne he wondered what was disrupting her beauty, causing both her heart beat to quicken and her eyes to take on a strange brightness. He had never seen her like this before, and they had known each other for a long time.

"What's wrong?" He asked, concerned.

"Nothing is wrong, but I have some wonderful news for you just the same," The Queen said, with an emotion he couldn't identify…., "I…I am carrying our first child."

Aragorn stood dead still for a moment that stretched into an eternity, as he let what he had just heard sink into him. As he stood looking at his beautiful wife, an incredible joy built up inside him. It started from the very centre of his being, and exploded outwards into an enormous smile and a burst of delighted laughter escaping from his mouth.

"A child?" He said in amazement, whispered hoarsely, the joy of the moment overwhelming him. His wife ran forward and threw herself into his strong arms. He caught her, laughing and crying, and held her tight and they turned as he held her, Arwen's feet barely on the ground. He put her down, gently, and bent to kiss her stomach.

"Are you sure?" He asked smiling, still holding her, knowing what the answer would be, "when did you find out?"

"I found out this morning. I had suspected ever since we were first married, but I wasn't sure and didn't want to rush things. I went to the healer's hall and spoke with Mereniel. She was on duty at the time, and she told me I was definitely with child. I told her not to tell anyone, but I think we'd better announce it soon, before she breaks her promise." Arwen laughed, "I know her and she means no harm, but when it comes to good gossip she can only keep it bottled up for a few days before she can't take it any longer." Aragorn laughed again, too taken in his good mood to be annoyed with a gossipy woman at the healing hall.

"Then let her tell! It won't matter because we are going to announce our future child this very day!"

Arwen smiled and kissed him long and gentle. He relaxed and kissed her back, then softly broke away.

"I think we should get dressed for our announcement, after all, the public will want to know that their queen is expecting."

"You're right, I'll go and get dressed at once" Arwen beamed, and ran, half skipping, from the throne room as she headed to her chambers, skirts billowing out behind her, golden in the afternoon sun.

Aragorn sat on his throne staring at his hands, temporarily stunned, and considered this new revelation. He was both elated and amazed that they had together created new life, and a smile lit up his face. He was going to be a father!

"Your majesty!" A voice echoed through the hall.

Aragorn raised his head, and looked at the man in uniform who had entered the room. His dark, swarthy face was curious, and his wary eyes scrutinized him. A badly broken nose gave the solitary visitor a strangely lopsided look.

"Pilimor," the King said, annoyed, "What is it?"

The Chief of the Guard had plagued him even before he became king. With the conclusion to the quest of the ring, and his subsequent rule of the white city, it was not the first time he had been there. He had been to Minas Tirith several times before he became king, and he had, for the most part, enjoyed them. Before he rose to fill his rightful place as King, most people didn't know him as anyone but Strider. Those few who were close knew him as heir to the throne of Gondor.

Pilimor was one who knew, but he had never been a friend. A meddlesome old woman claiming to be a fortune teller had let the secret leak. The chief of the guards had arrested her, for no real reason but her fortune telling- a practice which he despised. The woman, to get herself out of prison, had offered the knowledge of one in the city who could claim the throne of Gondor. Pilimor was a steadfast supporter of Denethor, and hated change. Needless to say, he was _very_ interested in the heir to the throne.

Pilimor had tracked down the city gossips and enquired after the mysterious heir, lining a few pockets here and there in order to attain his secret life as Strider. Pilimor had informed the Steward of his identity, and Aragorn was forced to flee the city. They had, however, met unfortunately, and Pilimor attacked him. Aragorn, being a master swordsman, had overcome him before running to escape the entire guard on his trail. Needless to say Aragorn wasn't very fond of the man, but he got some form of satisfaction by having him working underneath him. It was ironic how the tables had turned.

His attention was drawn back to the man as he spoke again in a contemptuous tone.

"Majesty, Gandalf the White is here to see you."

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Hey, please review if you're interested in this fic. I apologize if it's not 100 perfect, but this is the first fanfic I've written. Any reviews would be MUCH appreciated! (By the way, I decided to change the name of the Chief of the Guards from Falnar to Pilimor, which in Elvish means Dark Arrow)


	2. Chapter 2

"Gandalf?" Aragorn queried, "He went to the west, along with Frodo and the others! Why would Gandalf be here?"

"I don't know highness, perhaps you should ask him" said Pilimor pertly. His annoyance at being a messenger showed in his voice.

"Yes, I'll do that," the King said, as a white robed, and somewhat bedraggled figure threw open the throne room doors and strode into the marble hall.

Pilimor swiveled around to stand in front of the King, as if protecting him. Aragorn knew better. He _is_ a gossip after all, Aragorn thought, amused. I bet he can't wait to tell the guard that a man presumed dead had come into the castle demanding to see the king. Gandalf never was really known for his politeness or subtlety anyway, at least around people he cared little for.

"Pilimor!" The tall, muddy figure snapped, "His highness does _not_ need a bodyguard, least of all you. Now leave me and your King in peace."

Aragorn snorted with barely disguised laughter, but the voice certainly had its desired effect on Pilimor, who stiffened visibly and shuffled quickly around the wizard walking down the hall toward Aragorn.

Gandalf strode up the hall, only pausing when, in a rather undignified way, he stumbled over the worn hem of his robes.

"Blasted thing…" Aragorn heard him mutter angrily before he quickly regained what was left of his dignity and strode up to the throne.

Aragorn stepped down and embraced the wizard. Gandalf patted him on the back, "Hello my friend, I _am_ glad to see you."

"I expect you are wondering exactly what it is that I'm doing here. You're not the only one, I imagine."

"Well, yes I am," admitted Aragorn, "but I am also happy you're here. And just in time for the good news too!"

"Good news?" enquired the wizard, "What good news is this? I also have some news, but you go first."

Aragorn smiled proudly, "I, my friend, am going to be a father!"

Gandalf smiled, but Aragorn sensed a sorrow beneath this façade. "I am very happy for you and your lovely wife, an heir to your throne! But I am afraid a pressing problem distracts me from fully rejoicing with you in this wonderful news."

Aragorn's happiness faltered, then failed.

"What is it Gandalf? And why are you in Middle Earth again, not the Grey Havens? What's wrong?"

"You heard Bilbo recall his adventures? The adventure with the Smaug, in the Lonely Mountain?"

"Yes," said Aragorn, keenly interested, and annoyed at the evasiveness of Gandalf's answer, "Does this involve the finding of the ring?"

"No," Gandalf replied. "It concerns the Arkenstone of Thrain."

Aragorn blinked. "The Arkenstone?" He replied after a momentary pause. "The Arkenstone that lies buried on the breast on Thorin in the heart of the Lonely Mountain? What has that got to do with your arrival? And the state of your cloak, for that matter?" Aragorn coughed.

Gandalf gave a pained smile. "I have journeyed a fair way to tell you of this. I had to, in fact, come all the way from the Lonely Mountain, so I trust my appearance isn't all that unfitting considering the ride I have undertaken." He winced, "Shadowfax may be one of the Mearas, but even he cannot always prevent saddle sores."

Aragorn chuckled. His good humour was returning. Gandalf's presence reminded Aragorn how much this advisor was sorely missed.

Gandalf paced to the window. The land was spread out before him, the fertile green hills darkening in the falling dusk. Beyond the scattered grazing sheep meandering in the distance the land grew darker, the terrain more rocky, and the Mountain range of Mordor reared up, a black silhouette against the sky. He studied the landscape with an unreadable expression on his face.

Aragorn took a place beside him, eyes wandering over the hills. "Gandalf?"

"I have come to tell you of the fate of the Arkenstone, and, perhaps, that of middle earth." Gandalf paused, and glanced sideways at the king, "The stone, the great jewel of Thrain has been stolen."

"Stolen?" Aragorn exclaimed. A shocked silence ensued, as the gravity of the matter settled, a new burden weighing on his mind.

"Who would steal it, and how? There must be some very strong dwarves between this thief and the grave of Thorin. And also, how would the stealing of the Arkenstone be enough to bring you back from the undying lands?"

Gandalf turned to face him, and just as he was about to speak, the hall's door slammed open.

"Damn." Gandalf muttered. He stepped behind a column, and disappeared. Aragorn stood in shock for a moment, and then as he remembered the opening of the door, he swivelled to face the newcomer.

"Laerwen," Aragorn said in surprise, as a young woman entered hesitantly, "What has brought you here?"

She stood, the foremost musician in the city, biting her lip as she stared at him. She was normally outspoken. Aragorn was perplexed by her silence.

"I, uh, I came to let you know that, um, that there is a man here who demands to see you immediately." She almost giggled, "A very short man, but he isn't small, if you know what I mean. He was carrying a big axe and had a big red beard. He refused to give the weapon to the guards, because he said you knew who he is…" At this she trailed off, and kept staring at him.

The girl may have a wonderful voice, he thought, but she isn't very bright. If a short man with a big red beard and an axe _wasn't_ a dwarf, he was a fool.

"And what, pray, did the guards do to this dw– uh, man?" Aragorn asked, deliberately; this girl was clearly all voice no brains.

"Well sir, they, um, they wrestled his axe off him and then locked him in the dungeon." She said slowly, still staring at him unnervingly. "He was very cranky."

"Well," said Aragorn, "I'm not surprised. Did this man give his name?"

Laerwen looked upwards, as if straining to remember. "I think his name, was Gimlet. But I'm not sure. It's a funny name isn't it?"

Aragorn resisted a chuckle, with considerable difficulty, and he could have sworn he heard a snort of laughter from behind a pillar. If this dwarf was who he thought he was, he would _not_ like being called 'Gimlet'.

"I'll go and check on him in a moment." said Aragorn. When the girl didn't move, he said gently, "You can go now."

Laerwen blinked, taking a while, it seemed to him, to understand the insinuation, before wandering out with a vague smile.

Aragorn sighed heavily. As beautiful as an iceberg, he thought, but unlike an iceberg she had nothing below the surface.

As this bizarre thought passed through his mind, a white figure appeared in front of him, no more then two feet from the throne. Aragorn started in shock. As he relaxed, he saw Gandalf grinning.

"Oh, very funny." said Aragorn, still a bit unnerved, "but next time try not to scare me out of my seat."

"Of course, your highness," said Gandalf, with a sweeping bow, "your wish is my command."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, before laughing jovially. As they calmed themselves, Aragorn remembered the task at hand.

"Did you hear what she said Gandalf?" he grinned, "Some short man with an axe and a big red beard who goes by the name of 'Gimlet' is locked in our dungeon."

"Gimlet," Gandalf snorted with laughter, "Oh, he won't like that…"

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Thanks heaps to my first 3 reviewers. I really appreciate the advice and just plain happiness of the reviewers. Thanks especially to Navaer Lalaith for the advice on elvish names and the URL recommended. If this is a bit of a cliff-hanger, I apologize, but it'll keep all you readers coming back for more:P


	3. Chapter 3

Mirkwood glowed in the day's first light. The dark green foliage of the forest trees gleamed with heavy dew, bestowing a glowing radiance the place did not possess other than at dawn- and rarely was the dawn so fiery as it was this morning. Legolas Greenleaf lay on his couch, staring up at the leafy ceiling above his head. He lay quietly, gazing at the gold-flecked clouds through a gap in the overhead greenery, his musings interrupted by the voice of his companion Brethilior.

"Brother, we must leave today if we are to reach Lothlorien by the time the Lady foresaw," he interjected quietly. "She will not be pleased if we arrive late," he said as Legolas didn't move. A hint of sternness crept into his voice, "You know that."

"Yes, I know," said Legolas with a sigh, "I merely wish to know _why_ the Lady summons us to Lothlorien, when she herself is beyond the seas, and will not be seen by us there."

Brethilior rested a hand on his shoulder. "The Lady is wise, she has a reason for our journey, and she will tell us through the mirror."

"Yes, yes," Legolas sighed, "but I fear my patience is wearing thin. The tidings cannot be good if she seeks to speak with us from the Grey Havens." Brethilior said nothing, only turned away and walked back to his bags, strapping them to the back of his horse, taking care not to overburden the magnificent creature.

Legolas continued to stare at the leaves waving in the air above him until Brethilior had finished tying his pack to the horse and spoke again. "Come friend Legolas, I have packed my horse and we must leave quickly, if reluctantly, to do the Lady's will. I will wait for you at the gate," Brethilior said, glancing sideways at Legolas' face, "I trust you will not be too long."

Legolas sighed, "No friend, I will not be long"

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"Let me out! Barbarians! When the king hears about this you'll hang!"

Aragorn grinned. He was a fair way from the dungeons, but he could hear the furious dwarf from where he stood. The guards must be insane, he thought, a smile creeping onto his face. Either that, or terribly brave. It took some steel to wrestle an axe from a dwarf.

Gandalf strode beside him, fighting desperately to hide a grin.

As they rounded a corner, and came into full view of the dungeon, the sound of Gimli's furious yelling increased significantly. When Aragorn and Gandalf came to a corridor of cells, they could instantly tell which Gimli's was. His cell had a solid stone front, with 2-inch thick bars for a window in a small door made of thick wood. His cell was also the one that the guards stayed carefully away from. The sound of his yelling doubled when the imprisoned dwarf heard the pair's footsteps.

"Who's that? Someone you fools have brought to interrogate me? Whoever you are you can go get the king that is ruling this bedamned city and tell him my name is Gimli not bloody-"

"Gimlet?" The king suggested as they came to a stop next to the cell.

"Damn right man! And if that daft girl told the king my name was Gim…" The voice trailed off into silence. "Aragorn? Is that you?"

Aragorn stopped at the door of the cell. "Yes, my dear angry dwarf, it is me." Aragorn smiled, "You know, you shouldn't scare the guards so, it puts them off their work"

As he was speaking a short figure had popped into view behind the window for an instant, and then disappeared again. The same thing happened several times over until Aragorn realised what was happening.

Aragorn couldn't stop himself, and burst into laughter as the dwarf kept jumping up and down inside the door. Gandalf, who had been standing nearby and conversing with a guard named _Bronad, _said sternly, "Why, Gimli, did you refuse to give the guards your axe?"

The jumping abruptly stopped, and a rather sheepish voice said, "There was a guard there, if you can call him that, and he called me a foul name, so I let my emotions, and my axe get the better of me."

Gandalf gave a grunt, and said, "Well, that is not at all acceptable." Gimli however couldn't see the smile on his face.

"Too right it's not acceptable laddie," Gimli mumbled as Aragorn unlocked the door and let him out, "These guards reflect badly on your people, you know."

As Aragorn looked at the short warrior, he had to grin. His beard was bedraggled, more so than usual, and he was wearing a ratty garment that had once been a dark green, but was now so covered in stains that the colour of the material was virtually impossible to tell.

"And, my friend, why are you here?" said the King, "Your appearance indicates a long journey."

"Well," said Gimli, "I am here because my people sent me. They said I was to meet someone who would tell me why I'm here."

Aragorn frowned. There seemed to be much he wasn't aware of happening in Middle-Earth, and he found it quite disturbing.

Gimli then turned to Gandalf, "Is that why are you here, old friend? You went westward with the elves as I recall, but I'm damned if I don't see you standing before me now in Middle-Earth."

"I come because of a threat, and a peril now growing in this land."

Gimli and Aragorn exchanged worried glances as the wizard continued; his voice became increasingly foreboding as he spoke.

"Gimli, you recall the Arkenstone?" The dwarf nodded. "Good, good. The stone was rested upon the breast of Thorin when he was buried, shortly after the end of the Battle of Five Armies. Dear Bilbo was there and witnessed the burial, along with the placement of the stone."

Here the wizard paused, taking a deep breath and looking carefully at the faces of those who surrounded him.

"The stone has been sto-" The wizard stopped abruptly, and then turned to the King, "Perhaps there is a, more, secluded, area where we can finish our conversation? The dungeon is hardly a suitable place for something of this gravity."

Aragorn smiled, and said "I know just the place. Follow me."

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The trio walked through the city to the ancient library, and took a path that started behind the painting of a Lady of old behind a double curtain at the end of a disused corridor. A small depression in the wall released the painting from its place. They filed up the narrow, musty path in the dark.

The king took several turns at various junctions. The only light was a pale emanation from Gandalf's staff, but the King had traveled this passage many times without a light. The room they arrived at was small and dusty, centuries of debris carpeting the floor, bookshelves lining the walls. The room was just large enough to house the three men; the tall shelves took up most of the available space.

The dwarf spluttered in the stirred up dust, but Gandalf and Aragorn, whose heads rose above the dust cloud had no such problem.

"Wha-what is this place?" coughed Gimli, eyes watering.

"This, friend, is a hiding place of the librarians. It was created for when one of our many wars ravaged the city, and the librarians needed a place to hide." Aragorn continued, "This room contains many of the valuable scrolls of our country. This place resides deep within the mountainside."

Gimli turned to Gandalf, who had been peering at a scroll.

"What is this that you spoke of? What has happened to the Arkenstone?"

"Ah," said the wizard, "it is most unfortunate. The stone," he paused with a frown, "The stone has been stolen."

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Hey, sorry I took so long about writing this fic, and thanx for my first reviews. Any more opinions would be much appreciated! I'm sorry if this is a bit of a cliffhanger, but the plot needs a bit more development before I write the next chap.


	4. Chapter 4

"The stone has been what?" the Dwarf shouted furiously, his face turning as red as his beard, "How? When?" Gimli's rantings trailed off into a stream of infuriated dwarvish curses. Aragorn didn't need to understand what he said to discern the words meanings.

"Yes Gimli, the stone _has_ been stolen." Gandalf said wearily, "And let me tell you it was no mean feat to even find that out in the first place."

Aragorn stared sharply at him, "And why was that, friend?"

The wizard sighed. "There are some properties of the stone that the dwarves don't want anyone to know about." Gandalf said quietly, "And even they know very little regarding the power themselves." Gandalf hesitated, as if he were contemplating revealing a great and terrible secret.

After a moment, Gimli, who hadn't seen the concern flicker over Aragorn's face, impatiently asked, "Well? Are you going to tell us what this power is, or stand there and ponder all day?"

Gandalf's face remained grave, but he looked at the man and dwarf standing before him. "The stone itself has many mysterious and dangerous powers, this I am sure of. But the ones that have stolen it know of its darkest secrets." Both the man and dwarf leaned forward unconsciously.

"The thieves have uncovered the stone's ability to read and control minds of men, dwarves, and orc alike." Gandalf paused, "The stone also has the ability to kill, with no physical contact." Both Gimli and Aragorn stood still for a moment, while they slowly realized the weight of the information imparted to them.

"You say it can kill?" Aragorn said quietly, trepidation making him hesitate, "How many? How many could die?"

"I know not exactly," said the wizard, "For it depends on the strength of its wielder. But a rough estimate for an ordinary man, with no unnatural abilities, would be several hundred."

Gimli gasped, fear widening his eyes. "How is it that something so powerful remained so hidden for so long?" His voice was hoarse, "Why did the dwarves not learn the secret of the stone long ago, when it was first discovered?"

"Because Gimli, they did not know the extent of the power when the possessed the stone. Unfortunately, the ones who stole the Arkenstone did." Gandalf gave a heavy sigh and looked away, white hair falling across his forehead. "The ones who stole the stone were _elves_ Gimli. _Elves_."

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Legolas looked up. The shadow of the forest of Lorien had smothered the light that had been warming his face, and the coolness was a welcome change. Not for the first time, Legolas wondered what the Lady meant to tell them through the mirror. He himself believed Brethilior. The news could not be good if the Lady herself wished to contact two of the few elves that remained in middle earth. In fact, Legolas thought, the news must be unusually bad.

His thoughts strayed to his dear friend that ruled the white city of Minas Tirith. Aragorn would need to be told of this meeting, as soon as Legolas could reach him, unless the Lady otherwise instructed. Legolas dearly missed the King, and also, he realized with a pang, he missed the irritable dwarf that now dwelled in the glittering mountain halls that were his domain. He intended to take Gimli with him to the Grey Havens when it was his time to leave middle earth. He would be the first of the Dwarves to enter the sacred elven land.

The snapping of twigs underfoot brought him back from his musings. They had entered the forest of Lothlorien.

"Come my brother," said Brethilior, "She will not want to be delayed in her message."

"I know," sighed Legolas, "And yet I wonder what tidings her message could bring us."

As the two elves rode deeper into the forest, silence grew between them. The great forest of Lothlorien often had that effect. Whispering melodies hung on the air, and half-heard laughter echoed through stillness. Legolas heard water trickling and dripping over the emerald green moss that covered the stones and ground of the forest. Lothlorien was an awe-inspiring realm. It was as mysterious as a forgotten dream, but could also be as menacing, and as lethal, as deaths shadow.

Legolas and Brethilior arrived at a small clearing; the ground was carpeted with the Elanor flowers. Legolas smiled as he dismounted, remembering Samwise's daughter. Elanor, he thought, as he crouched and plucked a flower from the ground and twirled the pale, golden blossom in his fingers. His Hobbit friends were also sorely missed, even Pippin.

Legolas straightened and followed Brethilior along a narrow and twisting path. Legolas walked carefully, watching where he stepped. Even with the elves of Lorien absent, the forest itself held many dangers for the unwary. As the two elves silently walked the lichen covered path, Legolas, whose senses were sharply attuned to the darkness of Mirkwood, felt, more then he saw, a presence nearby. The presence felt like power. Both old, so vastly old he could feel time unraveling around it, and young.

It was the power of the Elves.

"Brethilior," Legolas murmured, "can you feel it?"

"Yes brother, I can," Brethilior replied, as he glanced quickly to both sides, "The power is old. Very old. It could only be the Lady."

About to reply, Legolas stopped before the words reached his mouth. A still, tall, figure was standing in the clearing, behind the mirror, robed in black from head to foot. Brethilior gasped, but Legolas spun, unsheathing his curved sword, and charged at the black robed figure.

"Stop."

The voice echoed in the clearing, power radiating from it. Legolas stopped. The single word halted his body, refusing to allow him any movement. It was eerily familiar, and there was strength behind it.

The voice of Galadriel spoke again, as Legolas stepped forward, but it sounded hollow, and emanated from the small silver basin set into a carved pillar of stone. The Mirror of Galadriel.

"Legolas Greenleaf," said the Lady, "You will not attack the one you see before you. Hinaur is a friend, and ally of my own. He does not speak, but he is a mighty in power, and a great warrior. He remains hidden, so as not to betray my trust."

The elf queen's strong, majestic voice straightened Legolas' and Brethilior's backs, awareness heightened in the presence of one so mighty. Her words thrilled through them, and they stared openly at the tall, slender figure standing silently near the mirror.

"Come." said Galadriel from beyond the seas, "We must speak."

Legolas glanced once more at the black clothed unmoving figure, and stepped forward.

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"Elves?" Gimli rasped through an opened mouth, "The elves could not have stolen the Arkenstone, it is too well protected!"

Gandalf laughed, a tight, dry chuckle, with no humour.

"Gimli," The wizard said, "Very few things are too well protected for them not to be stolen. The elves are," he paused for a moment, choosing his words, "They are, particularly proficient at stealing when they want to. The fact that many choose not to steal does not diminish that fact."

Aragorn frowned and said, somewhat confused, "The elves are a force for good, why would they steal such a thing?"

"These are not the elves we know. _These_ elves are the origin of the orc. They were twisted by evils so powerful that anyone would be changed, but these elves wished it."

Gandalf turned abruptly, ignoring the consternation of his companions, and leaving the secret room, continuing down the passage as he spoke.

"These elves come from a foul breed. They wanted to be made more powerful at first, but the Valar wouldn't allow it. They turned to," he paused and turned, an unearthly shadow veiling his face, "other sources."

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Hey, thanx to my reviewers, please send more! They are food for thought! I hope you all like this story, and haven't caught out too many discrepancies, (I hope not :P) I would also like to recommend a good URL on LOTR info; w w w . g l y p h w e b . c o m / a r d a / d e f a u l t . a s p


	5. Chapter 5

"What other sources?" Aragorn enquired. The look he had seen on Gandalf's face was far from encouraging. "What could change the nature of a creature so much that they become as twisted and evil as an orc?"

"Oh," replied Gandalf, "The nature of the orc was always evil, and their ancestors were even more potent."

At the entrance to the passage, the wizard stopped and turned, causing the two behind him to stop abruptly. Gandalf looked the man and dwarf each in the eye before speaking.

"Imagine an elf," he said, "But with the nature and emotions of an orc, only ten times more potent. Imagine the evils that they could inflict on the land that they control. These elves are a terror to all who meet them. They are uncannily beautiful, even for elves, and their incredible beauty clouds the minds of their victims."

Gandalf turned and strode off down the dusty corridor, cloak flying behind him. The resulting dust cloud nearly blinded the shortest member of the group.

Gimli hadn't spoken for some time, but when Aragorn closed the portrait behind the trio, he quietly said, "An evil elf? Perish the thought. I wonder if the Arkenstone they possess can spy on elves as well as dwarves, men and orcs."

Aragorn glanced over to him while walking, "That, I doubt. The elves were ever more powerful then the other races in Middle Earth, and if the elves could be spied upon Gandalf would have mentioned it."

"Maybe not," said Gimli, "For if elves could be spied upon, perhaps wizards could be too."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The trio exited the Library, and walked into the clouded evening. The Wizard, Aragorn noticed, had a particularly secretive manner as the King led them into the Palace. He would take them to spare chambers and they would stay the night, to leave as soon as possible for the Lonely Mountain.

As the King was walking back to his throne room, a horrible realisation struck his brain. Aragorn groaned. He had just remembered the announcement that he had planned to make that day.

Arwen would not be happy.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You promise we would announce it today!"

Aragorn winced, he had been right, Arwen _wasn't_ happy. "I know I did, love, but a problem has arisen." Arwen raised one, perfectly shaped eyebrow, "Really? What kind of problem?"

Aragorn sighed, and ran his hand through his hair, "A big one. An extremely big one."

Arwen walked up to him and stared him in the face, "What is this big problem?" When the King didn't answer, Arwen turned away and strode to the window of the throne room, "I've been hearing the most ridiculous things. The people claim that they've seen Gandalf, and we _both_ know Gandalf is nowhere near Middle Earth."

The King said nothing.

Arwen turned away from the window and walked to him again. When she spoke, it was much quieter, "Aragorn, Gandalf isn't here, _is he?_"

The king grimaced and said quietly, "Yes, dear, he is."

"Why?" Aragorn knew what Arwen was capable of as a warrior, but he still fought an overwhelming desire to protect her from his troubles, but perhaps this was her problem too. Besides, this was going to be more difficult to cover up.

He may as well come out with it, he thought. "Gandalf is here because of the theft of the Arkenstone. The thieves knew of its rather remarkable powers, that to control the mind, and to kill without contact. The thieves were well versed in dwarf security forms, and the Lonely Mountain, but they were not Dwarves. They are Elves. We do not know who they are, nor where they come from, but they are evil."

At this, Arwen went pale. Her normally radiant complexion went white and dull. Aragorn hastened towards her, alarmed, and he managed to catch her as she fell. "What is it Arwen?" he asked concerned. But she didn't reply with any words he understood. All she would say was the word 'Ghâshbúrz'. As he was puzzling over its meaning, Gandalf walked in.

"I could have told you not to tell her." Gandalf said quietly. "This news has the same reaction with many elves. Although," he said, brows furrowing as he bent over Arwen, "Not always to this extreme."

"She just fainted." Aragorn said, "When I told her that the thieves were elves, she went pale and passed out."

As they both gazed at the prone figure of Arwen, her eyelids flickered, and she again murmured, "Ghâshbúrz …"

The wizard froze and stood up, "Ghâshbúrz. I should have known… But they are gone from this world, and they cannot return." He looked at Arwen, still lying in her husbands arms, for a moment and then continued, as if talking to himself, "They are among the foulest creatures of all the earths."

The wizard turned to face Aragorn, "The Ghâshbúrz, or Dark Ones, as they call themselves, had their origin at the same time as the elves, many thousands of years ago. But they were created as an imitation of the elves beauty, a mockery of their powers. The Ghâshbúrz's powers however are still deadly and powerful. They are as skilled with a blade as the elves, and also possess their mastery over healing and magic." Gandalf walked over to a window and surveyed the scene before him. The hills of Mordor bit into the horizon sky, and as Aragorn watched the wizard he felt a sudden foreboding over the information about to be imparted to him.

"The Dark Lord created the Ghâshbúrz. No, not Sauron," said Gandalf as the king opened his mouth to speak, "his Lord, his predecessor. The evil one named Morgoth."

Aragorn stared at Gandalf, his eyes widening. Morgoth's theft of the Silmaril jewels was legendary, and evil. He was, after all, an outcast of the Valar, Aragorn thought. Morgoth was quite capable of creating the Ghâshbúrz as a mockery of the Valar's creation of the elves.

"When did Morgoth create the Ghâshbúrz, I mean Dark Ones? And why?"

Gandalf laughed sourly. "You ask the questions that no-one knows the answers to. Morgoth created them some time in the first age, but the exact time is not known. As for why, I can take a guess at it. He created them partly as a mockery of the elves, and as part of a plot to take control of middle earth and its inhabitants. Luckily, his plan was discovered by the Valar, and it was thwarted easily. However the Valar did not destroy the Dark Ones until many years had passed. In the few years that the Valar allowed them, the Dark Ones grew in strength and numbers."

Gandalf sighed and continued, "The Valar did eventually destroy them, or so they thought. The evil of the Dark Ones has somehow lasted into this age and now they have stolen a significant source of power to further their own cause."

"And what is their cause?" Aragorn enquired, avoiding Gandalf's eyes, afraid of what he might see there.

"The Dark Ones want every evil creature wants, power and destruction." Gandalf replied, "It's that simple. The Ghâshbúrz want to destroy the men, dwarves and elves in Middle earth. But their reach, with the Arkenstone, would stretch beyond our land. They would be unstoppable."

"This is a foe beyond men and dwarves," Aragorn said quietly, "We cannot fight them without the aid of the elves, or another equally powerful race."

"This evil cannot be defeated through strength of numbers and military might alone," Gandalf replied, as he gazed at the King, "This foe has a mastery of the magics that inhabit Middle earth, and the lands across the sea. Not even those who reside in the Grey havens would be completely safe from the Dark Ones evil."

Gandalf turned again to survey the scene before him as he stood at the window, before speaking again. "We must fight magic with magic, power with power. There are few equipped in middle earth to do so, but I know of one. He is an elf, of great and terrible powers that reach beyond anything that you, I, or any other elves can even comprehend. Galadriel and Elrond, and even Bombadil bowed down before his strength and prowess in the matters of magic."

Gandalf turned, and walked swiftly to Aragorn, watching him carefully, staring deep into his soul, and, Aragorn thought, gauging his reactions. "We must seek this one out," Aragorn said, "We must seek him out and ask him to aid us."

Gandalf smiled, as if pleased, and began to walk out of the throne room. Aragorn stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, before quietly asking, "Where is he? And how are we to find him if we are travelling to the Lonely Mountain at the dawn?"

Gandalf gave a peculiar smile and said, "He will find us."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hey all! Thanks again to my reviewers, please keep it coming. Sorry this took so long to post, but I had major writer's block!

By the way, I would like to recommend Water – Star as a writer. I especially like the Jimmy Neutron story "An Impossible Reunion" :-P


	6. Chapter 6

Legolas, Brethilior, and their strange, silent companion Hinor had been riding for five days now. Under the advisement of Galadriel, they had taken the circuitous route through Lothlorien to reach Mirkwood, and then the Lonely Mountain, for the way was quicker going, but a much harder ride on the horses. The weather had been bad as they rode, the normally blue sky overcast, and though the rain was not torrential, Legolas found that the constant drizzle made for a tedious, and tiring experience.

Legolas was riding slowly along with the others, contemplating ways of decreasing the amount of water was that soaking into him, when Brethilior rode up next to him. He too was soaked to the skin, and his spirits, Legolas observed, seemed to be as damp as he was.

"Do you really think that an _elf _stole the stone?" Brethilior asked moodily, "Why would one of us crave to possess something so evil?"

"I told you already Brethilior," Legolas replied wearily, "The Lady told us that these Dark Ones are not as we are. They are evil of the worst kind. They feel, think, and know the turmoil of love and hate as all of our kind do. But they do not choose love, they choose hate. That is what makes them so terrifying, and powerful."

"The evil ones we have fought before, the orcs, the giant spiders, they knew nothing _but_ evil. It was who they were. But to choose evil takes a mind far more twisted then theirs." Legolas paused and looked Brethilior in the eyes, "Those who we have fought before do not know anything of good, or our motivation in upholding it. But this great enemy, they know exactly what we do and why. They know that we would not sacrifice hundreds upon thousands to achieve our goals. They know our weaknesses, because once, a long time ago, our weaknesses were theirs."

Brethilior said nothing, but looked slightly chastened as he continued riding. As Legolas was mulling over the conversation, Hinor, who was riding ahead, stopped his horse. Legolas noticed his halt just in time to steer his horse away from a collision, and looked over at Hinor annoyed. The black cloaked figure said nothing, but raised his finger to where his lips would have been, if Legolas could have seen them.

Legolas had not realised, but they had entered a clearing in the area of forest they had been riding in, all around the riders there was nothing but densely packed trees. The path wound on through the forest, and Legolas could see no reason for the halt in their progress.

"What is it?" He whispered, suddenly feeling ill at ease, "Why have we stopped?"

Hinor again did nothing but raise his finger to his unseen lips, and then gestured to show that Legolas and Brethilior should listen.

Legolas could hear nothing. Feeling rather annoyed, he opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped. He had heard a nearby twig snap. A very small rustling of leaves soon followed. Legolas became tense as the tiny, but not insignificant, noises continued, and grew louder, as though whatever was coming was headed in their direction.

His breathing grew faster, then halted altogether as he heard a scrape of steel againsts steel. His eyes scanned the tiny clearing, and saw Hinor standing on the ground, crouching slightly, sword in hand. The noise he had heard was Hinors sword, he realised, and felt his breathing continue.

The noises continued, and though they were tiny and quiet, something that only the elves or a trained hunter would hear, they were, Legolas felt, slightly threatening.

Legolas looked around again and had a shock when he realised Hinor, who had been standing next to his horse, had disappeared.

Brethilior too had noticed, and was looking around the small clearing, his eyes hardly staying focused on one area for more then a second.

The silence had grown again, and Legolas realised that the noises had stopped. He quickly dismpunted his horse and walked to the edge of the clearing, staring out into the semi-darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of their guide. As he was staring into the woods, he felt a small tap on is shoulder. He spun around startled, while unsheathing his sword, and found himself looking into the blackness of Hinor's hood. Legolas looked at him for a moment, disgruntled, then put his sword back into its sheath.

As he took in the scene before him, he realised that Hinor was holding something, or someone, in his gloved hand.

By the time Legolas realised what it was, Brethilior too had dismounted and was walking towards them.

"Stop." Legolas said quickly, just as Brethilior was reaching out with his sword to touch the thing, "I know what it is."

Legolas pulled away a hood that was covering what he suspected was the creatures face, and smiled. He now knew the reason that the creature made such little noise, because, after all, Hobbits could be very quiet when they wished to.

The small face looked up at him, and Legolas couuldn't help but smile when the young hobbit child said,

"Please don't hurt me sir, I never did anythin' to you folks. I was just losted in the forest, and heard your horses." He glanced nervously at the three, his glance lingering on Hinor, "I thought you might help me, sirs." he continued, rather more hesitantly.

Legolas smiled again, and said gently to the young Hobbit, "Of course we'll help you. But first we need to know who you are and where you're from so we can get you back there."

The child looked around nervously, and said, "Before I tell you anythin', who's that one, the creepy looking one, and why is he all in black?"

Legolas looked over at Hinor, and wondered how he would explain this, but before he could say anything, Hinor gently turned the hobbit to face him and, with his back to the other elves, quickly moved his hood so the little one could see Hinors face.

An enormous smile came onto the hobbits face, and he was opening his mouth to say something when Hinor again moved, but this time he moved one hand to his mouth, and the other he rested on the hobbits shoulder.

The little hobbit smiled and nodded, then turned to face the others.

"I am Elanor Gamgee, and I live in Hobbiton." she said, unaware of the shock that registered on Legolas' face, "I've heard lots of stories about the elves, and they were all nice. Elves are always nice." Legolas nearly winced at the irony of her statement, then waited as she continued, "It would be very nice of you sirs to take me home now. Please?"

Legolas smiled. "Yes, Elanor. We will."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The company of three, Aragorn, Gimli, and Gandalf had arrived at the Lonely Mountain. The atmosphere among the Dwarves who lived there was that of suspicion bordering on hostility against the King and Wizard. Gimli, of course, was not under any suspicion, but he was always closely watched by Dain's men. The fact that the Arkenstone had been stolen from under their very noses had made them wary of strangers, and even friends.

The three had been shown to their chambers in the depths of the Lonely Mountain, passing through many suspicious glares from the dwarves that were working along the passages leading to their rooms. Aragorn and Gandalf had been kept under close scrutiny ever since their arrival and neither of them were happy about it, especially as they had not seen the Dain, the king under the mountain, yet.

"When will the king see us?" Aragorn wondered, "And why are the dwarves suspicious of _us_, especially Gimli?"

"Answers will come, but all in good time my friend," Gandalf replied wearily, "The King will most likely be seeing us on the morrow. I am beginning to feel that he is more preoccupied with keeping his people calm then amusing his visitors," he said with a sideways glance, "No matter how important they may be."

Aragorn gave an indifferent grunt, and continued pacing around their quarters.

"You know," Gimli said from his seat on small bed, "Walking around in circles isn't going to make tomorrow come any faster. We will talk to the King when he is ready for us, and only then. Knowing him, and I do, he will be trying to get the dwarves who serve him to adjust to our presence here."

"Yes, yes." Aragorn said moodily, "Waiting is all very well and I _can_ understand why he hasn't sent for us immediately, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Gimli snorted, and Gandalf bit back a grin. Even the King smiled.

Aragorn stopped pacing, and looked at the bed that the dwarves had supplied. He smiled at the thought, and wondered where they had acquired a bed that would suit a fully grown man. Smiling to himself, he sat down hard on the bed and winced. Apparently, he thought, even beds are made from rock here. And, indeed, under a thin layer of padding, the bed was made of rock.

Aragorn sighed, but he still lay down on the bed, willing himself to sleep and get some rest for the coming day. Doubtless, he thought, it would be a trial.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hello again, my readers, I offer my humble apologies for taking so long to post this chapter. I am afraid that, besides from a serious case of writers block, I have been on holidays and have recently gotten a job, so updates will likely be erratic.

Anyway, I would like to thank all my reviewers, but especially lembas7. The cure of my writers block is solely due to (his?her?) prompt reply to my plea for advice and inspiration.

Now, on the storyline, I realise that there may be a few areas in this chapter that do not stay true to the geography of Middle Earth (eg. Meeting up with Elanor near the shire), but readers must allow some room for the plot to develop, and I couldn't think of another way to bring the hobbits into the story. Well, I _could_ have thought of one, but it required brainpower that I am lacking at the moment :-P

Anyway, enjoy!


	7. Chapter 7

Hobbiton hadn't changed much, Legolas observed. The grass was still green and the hobbits still enjoying their lives of simplicity, despite their past trials with Saruman and his war mongering.

The simple town was in full bloom of spring, the grass was the brightest green he had ever set eyes on, and the people of the shire were glowing. Young lovers walked the path next to the horses of the elves, and little Elanor barely noticing their outlandish appeal. But then again, Legolas thought, the people of the shire had been seeing much more of the elves since the fall of Saruman, and had become as used to the elves as hobbits could be with anything new.

As the horses rode on, the older hobbits still threw a few curious, or hostile, glances their way, but they were prevented from voicing their anger by the presence of Elanor, who was skipping alongside the elves, quite unaware of any potential unpleasant behaviour.

As the elves rounded the bend into Bagshot Row there was a burst of noise coming from bag-end, which was fondly remembered as the home of Legolas' departed friend Bilbo. However, at the moment the noise was as unwelcome as fingernails on slate. The Sackville-Baggins' were having a loud row within the beautiful home they bought off Frodo at the start of his journey and, by the sound of it were smashing some of Bilbo's priceless heirlooms against the walls in fits of rage.

In a few moments the noises subsided and once again peace prevailed on Bagshot row.

"Come on," said Elanor, "Ignore the S-B's, they're always a-yellin' about something."

Legolas glanced at Brethilior, whose first visit it was to the shire, and shrugged. Elanor continued as if nothing had happened, "Come on now, I'm sure pa will want to thank you. I was well and truly losted until you and your two friends," here she paused for a brief moment and glanced at the figure in black that was Hinor, until continuing persuasively, "He would be mighty glad to see you gents."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The king sighed. It _had_ been a gruelling day, and he hadn't enjoyed receiving the dire news that was waiting for him.

"We fear," Dain had said, "That the elves my have had someone working with them, someone that knows this mountain inside out."

"A dwarf then." Aragorn had commented, "It could only have been a dwarf."

"You insult my kind, Aragorn King" Gimli had added huffily, "No one of us who dwell in the Lonely Mountain would betray ourselves, least of all to an elf."

Gandalf had raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Well, it's true!" said a defensive Gimli, "No dwarf would betray their home and King to anyone, elf or no…"

Aragorn sighed, and counted to ten before continuing.

"Gimli, we cannot prove it was a dwarf, I agree, but we cannot prove it was _not_ a dwarf. Until we discover who did this, we must remain neutral on the subject of betrayal." As Gimli opened his mouth to argue, Dain quickly spoke over the top of him, "The King is right, we cannot prove it was not a dwarf, Gimli." At this, the subject of their conversation had frowned and slumped down in his chair.

"Now, ignoring the business of whether a dwarf could betray his home, I shall tell you what happened." Dain took a breath before continuing, "We are reasonably sure that the thief came here in the night, when the torches were dimmed, and the skylights were dark, then proceeded down through the caverns and hallways to Thorin's grave." Aragorn opened his mouth, about to ask a question, "Before you ask Aragorn, we always keep a guard stationed over the entrance to the graveyard, but the thief somehow slipped past. The thief then must have dug up his grave," here the King paused, struggling to keep his outrage from showing, "They them must have removed the stone from his breast, reburied him, the walked out without being seen by anyone."

There was a rather weighty pause. After several moments, Aragorn, with his head in his hands, spoke, "How is that even possible? The only way that the thief could have slipped past the guards would be if they were asleep or complete halfwits."

Gimli huffed, but said nothing, and Dain nodded his head wearily.

"I know those are the only explanations, but neither of those are true here. The guards are always stationed in pairs, and only the most vigilant are granted the privilege of guarding the deliverer's grave. The thief must have found another way in, a secret way. Either that, or the thief is invisible, completely silent, and has enough magic to conceal their movements in the graveyard."

Aragorn sighed. For all he knew, the thief _could_ have been supernaturally quiet and it _could_ have been invisible. There was no way to tell, and if he spoke to Dain about his concerns, the dwarf would merely laugh, saying that for any being to be that powerful would be impossible. But Dain had not heard of the mages of old, the ones who existed for Gandalf and his brethren in the land across the sea. Dain had not heard the stories of beings so powerful that they could kill with a glance, kill with no more effort then having to turn their eyes in the direction of their intended target. Aragorn knew that those mages were servants of the Valar, but these elves were nothing but pure evil.

As Aragorn was thinking, Gandalf finally spoke. "I think," the wizard said in subdued tones, "That we should see this graveyard, and look for a possible entry point."

Dain looked away for a moment, then nodded. "I will ask the elders for their permission, for no non dwarfs have been allowed in the cemetery for many years. In fact," here the king glanced at Gandalf, "I believe that the last guests allowed were yourself, Gandalf, and the hobbit Bilbo." Gandalf smiled, the memories of his past adventure with his old friend lightening his eyes, then asked, "We will see you in the morning then?"

"Yes," the king replied, "I will see you in the morning."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Legolas, Brethilior and Hinor paused at the entrance to number 3 Bagshot row, waiting for Elanor to open the round door. She pushed the door handle inwards, and a warm golden light filtered through the doorway, lighting the faces of Legolas and Brethilior, but Hinor's face remained as hidden as always, the light doing little to show the other two why he kept his face covered.

Legolas started as a female voice echoed from within the house.

"Elanor? Is that you? Goodness me, if that is you, you are going to get the whipping of a lifetime for staying out so late. You had your father and I worried sick! And at this moment he's out looking for you!"

The voice had come through the passages of the house, and the woman arrived just after she had finished her last sentence, and as she turned the bend to the entrance, she was beginning a new one.

"Oooh, girl, are you goin' to be sorry for keeping your-" The voice stopped, and Legolas hid a smile at the bewildered expression on the face of Rosie Gamgee.

"Well," Rosie said when she had recovered, "You've brought home some visitors." The little home was awash with light as Sam's wife spoke again, "Well, I suppose you'll be wanting to see Sam. Any elves that I meet usually do. Not," she paused and looked her visitors up and down, "That I've met many." She again looked at the elves, and her expression darkened as she took in Hinor's bizarre appearance. "In fact, I've never met one yet who looks like one of the riders from the dark times when Sharky ruled us here." This allusion to Saruman's alias reminded Legolas that he was dealing with old fashioned, superstitious Hobbits, not the elves that he was used to.

"I'm sorry Rosie ma'am, I forgot my manners. This is our guide and companion, Hinor." As Rosie lifted a sceptical eyebrow, Legolas quickly continued, "He may look strange, but let me assure you that he means you no harm whatsoever. In fact," here he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "He was sent by Galadriel herself."

His words had the desired effect, and Rosie's expression quickly changed from suspicion to wide-eyed awe. "Well, come in, come in! I'm sure Sam will be happy to see you, and he'll thank all three of you for bringing this little rascal of ours home."

Rosie hustled the three of them through the tiny door, and bent double they started down the winding hallway. The warm glow they had seen when Elanor first opened the door increased in brightness until they entered a sitting room lit by a warm wood fire in an open hearth. The elves stood awkwardly in the enclosed space, until Rosie offered them several large seats. Legolas and Brethilior gladly accepted the offer, Hinor, however, remained standing.

She looked a little disconcerted by the black cloaked elf's refusal, she bustled off into the kitchen, saying, "I'll just get some vittles for you while you're waiting until my Sam gets home."

Legolas was just getting settled in the warmth of the hobbit house, when they heard the door open.

"Rosie? Is she back yet?" The voice sounded familiar, and Legolas broke into a broad smile as he recognised the voice of Samwise Gamgee. Rosie winked at the elves, then walked to the hallway entrance and yelled, "Yes, she's back. And it's only thanks to these here foreign visitors that are in the sitting room right now." A grunt of confusion echoed up the hall, and the hobbit that made it arrived just as Legolas had stood up. Sam entered the room with a look that changed swiftly from bewilderment, to surprise, to joy as soon as he saw his visitors.

"It's you!" Legolas grinned, the remark had been addressed to him, and reached out to clasp hands with the hobbit standing in front of him, "Yes, its me, and I brought a few friends with me." Sam stared around at Legolas's two companions and said, "Well, they're all welcome if they're with you, and if they helped rescue my daughter, even more so."

"Yes, they all helped, and if it wasn't for Hinor here," he gestured at the black figure, "Elanor wouldn't have been found by us at all. In fact," he said a little sternly, addressing the young hobbit standing at the feet of her mother, "She may have been found by something much worse then a company of friendly elves."

Elanor gasped, then giggled, and ran off down the hall. Sam shook his head disparagingly, then looked at his wife. "I know, I'll be leaving now so that you gents and my husband can catch up on each others news. Besides, I have to tend to Frodo."

Legolas raised an eyebrow, then remembered that Sam had named their first son after his former master. Sam sat down on a vacant chair by the fire. "Well," Sam said, sounding contented and at ease, "What have I missed out on these past few years?"

"Oh, not as much as you'd think. Just some evil elves, and the theft of the Arkenstone. Just small news"

Sam stared. After blinking several times, he said, in a slightly less contented tone, "The Arkenstone? How in the world did that happen?"

"Well, you missed the first part of my sentence. Evil elves…" Legolas spoke slowly, his good humour disappearing as he continued to tell all that he thought was necessary for Sam to know about their predicament.

Sam looked as though an anvil had been dropped on him. Legolas almost smiled at the shock on Sam's face as he heard more and more about the Ghâshbúrz, and the stolen Arkenstone and the secret of the dwarves.

At the end of the tale, Sam was very quiet, and very still. "Well," he said at last, "This is some news indeed, and bad news at that."

Sam turned from staring into the fire, and faced the elves, two sitting, and one standing in the corner of the room, in what little darkness was available. The light seemed to slide off Hinor, and as Sam looked at him, Hinor nodded, ever so slightly.

Sam gulped, then nodded back at the dark elf. He turned to Legolas, and gave a small smile, then said, "Well, how can I help?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hey all, really sorry about the delay in updating. I got a kick up the rear by a fellow writer, and I decided to start up again. Anyway, hope you all enjoy, and I'll try to update soon!


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